It is almost 1 pm here in southwestern Ohio, just an hour away from the return of a regional tradition that many of us can hardly wait to come around for one more year. It might not be as good as Christmas morning, though some would argue better: The return of Cincinnati Reds baseball.
Ever since I was a kid there was always something special about the Reds, especially going down to old Crosley Field for a game. Big stuff, indeed. As I think I mentioned here on The Back Porch before, in summer bedside night prayers I often bargained for a Reds’ win for the promise of some good work tomorrow. I can almost hear Waite Hoyt calling the game through my prayerful thoughts. I mean, the Reds are us. They are southwest Ohio. They are part of the glue that knits the tri-state together into our home region on the planet. And they are our boys of summer.
I sure hope they have another good season. I hope the pitching holds up and the offense stays on the ball. I hope Joey Votto has another MVP season and Jay Bruce has more hot spells than cold. I hope Bronson Arroyo doesn’t miss a start and Coco Cordero gives us an easier time for our hearts. I hope Brandon Phillips flashes splendid leather and earns another Gold Glove and Hernandez and Hannigan combine for an even better batting and throw ‘em out at second average.
It promises to be a good year. Here’s hoping it turns out that way. Good for the hometown Dayton Dragons, too.
It’s time to put on my Reds hat!
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A special thanks this week to all my Facebook friends who sent me birthday greetings. Forty-five birthday notes were received. Can you believe that? Forty-five. Amazing. Thanks so much for the kind thoughts.
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What do you know about vacation timeshares?
They’ve always intrigued me, promising a pretty-much-paid-for beach break annually for years to come. But then you hear about buyers who never get reservations, always seem to be short on points -- so can never stay there, and then the lousy customer service after the sale. (translation: Nobody returns phone calls.)
Well, we just about bought into one of those last week on Hilton Head Island, but decided after a ninety minute session with three different salesmen that we really wanted no part of it.
Still, I’ve talked with the Marriott Vacation Club folks and they seem to be pretty attentive. We’ll see. After all, it is a Marriott.
We sold ourselves on the idea of having a week on the beach every year and a half or so. Spring or fall would work. As long as breezes were warm enough to keep a long walk down the beach at sunset reasonably comfortable.
I’ll tell you, I’ve seen Cindy Lou absolutely blossom at the beach. I’ve always known she loves the sun and the winter got her down. I didn’t quite understand the power of sun with sand, I guess.
The first time I saw the transformation was at Fort Walton Beach many years ago on spring break. Cindy laid out every day for a couple of hours and colored up nicely. I don’t know that the dinner conversation changed, but a softness appeared in her face that was absolutely noticeable. It was very cool to see.
I’d love to give the girl the beach every now and then. Timeshare seems like a reasonable way of promising that trip to ourselves.
How can that be bad?
Today’s elder idea: Players make their own success. Mangers only put them in the position to do so.
Reds’ manager Dusty Baker
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